


Meretricious

by tamed_untranslatable



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamed_untranslatable/pseuds/tamed_untranslatable
Summary: “Shush, you. You love my clothes.”“Mmm. Well. Mostly I just love you.”
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Meretricious

**Author's Note:**

> Something small and sweet to ring in the festive season. Inspired by [this delightful edit.](https://barachiki.tumblr.com/post/154663007035/sherlocks-2016-christmas-sweater)

The chilly air hit John as soon as he stepped out of the shower. He caught his breath as it surrounded him, making his wet skin break out into goosebumps. It had been colder than usual so far, for a London winter, with frost forming like tinsel on every window to reflect the warm reds and greens of the lights strung up all around them. John didn’t mind much, though – the heat in the flat wasn’t quite a match for it, but it was all the more incentive to have a fire crackling all the time, and just give in fully to the joyful, festive warmth of the season.

John dried himself and dressed as quickly as possible. He towelled his hair off as best he could, not bothering to even comb it afterwards. They'd probably spend the day in anyway, huddling together under a blanket with cups of hot chocolate and trying to find something decent on the telly.

He headed into the sitting room – Sherlock was standing at the window, peering out at the street.

“It’s snowing a bit,” he said, with a note of suppressed excitement. “Come look.”

But John’s eyes had stalled on what Sherlock was wearing – a colourful, knitted Christmas jumper, with a vibrant collection of horizontal, snowflake-patterned lines wrapping around it.

John vaguely recognized it as one of his own – a really old one, that he hadn’t worn in years. He’d forgotten he had it, actually. He crossed the room to where Sherlock was, and his arm came to rest at the small of his back.

“Where did you find this?” he asked. The wool felt a little worn, but not stiff.

Sherlock gazed out at the thin smattering of snowflakes falling out on the street with muted delight for a few more seconds, then turned to look at John.

“Bottom of the second drawer,” he said. He looked down, examining the pattern wrapping around his sleeve. “Underneath a few of your old jeans.”

“Ah,” John said, with a small grin.

“I’ve never seen it on you before.”

“No, I haven’t worn it in a really long time.”

It was still soft, somehow, the wool smooth under his hand. A bit small on John, now, which is probably why he’d let it phase out of his collection. But it fit like a glove on Sherlock. It would be warm, and gentle on his sensitive skin. And the pattern suited him too – there was something whimsical about it. That was a side of Sherlock he didn’t often express, but it felt very _him_ , especially when it was just the two of them here at home, where he was more comfortable showing it.

“It looks good on you,” John said, smiling.

Sherlock scoffed, looking down at the clashing lines of different patterns that ran across his chest.

“Yes, it’s _extremely_ fashionable,” he said, smirking. But his arm came to wrap around John’s back, too, and he was warm, and comfortable, and happy.

“It _is,_ ” John grinned. “These patterns were all the rage, ten years ago.”

“They were not.”

“Sure they were,” John said, holding back giggles. He looked up at Sherlock. The muted white light of the street outside danced in his eyes, like trails of snowflakes. “Just ask Mrs. Hudson.”

“Yes, Mrs. Hudson, a noted paragon of taste,” Sherlock grinned back at him. “Almost as much as you.”

John gave him a small, playful shove.

“Shush, you. You love my clothes.”

“Mmm. Well. Mostly I just love you.”

John’s heart felt as warm as the glowing fire behind them. They leaned in, and shared a slow, sweet kiss. Taking their time, just enjoying each other. Nothing to distract them, nowhere to be.

Afterwards, John rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder, and stared out into the quiet blanket of snow settling out on the street. It was going to be a wonderful day. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Your comments are always appreciated <3.


End file.
